UMD Stories


Interlude: Pete
Story by jonh387x
Posted 9/25/17     2862 views
PART 1--On Treasure Chest

Pete Mazakeotis had only two problems in his life. Number One was something he had no control over, his surname (ma-zack-ee-OUT-is). No one could pronounce it, and the most recent time had come when he had appeared on Treasure Chest. The borsch-belt emcee, Jerry Mason, got downright hostile trying to get it right at the rehearsal, so he finally ultimatumed to the producers, "I'm just gonna call him Pete, OK?"

His Number Two problem was that he wanted to gunge with someone else really badly. Otherwise he was quite satisfied with his life: he was 31, had a 5-times-a-week muscular gym body, lived in an open relationship with a guy he really loved, and had a good job with a construction company. He was a devout "lurker" on websites like UMD and The Pie Zone, where he could see pictures and videos of pie-, gunge-, and mud-guys. What he wanted most was to be with one of them, trading gooey cream pies in their faces, pouring thick sticky pancake syrup over each others' heads, slathering his washboard abdominals with cake batter, and wallowing in deep thick mud. His partner Zach, ten years older than him and a psychotherapist, certainly understood clinically the attraction of a fetish like Pete's; he just didn't share Pete's arousal. Zach also knew that Pete was very shy, really fearful that no one would ever want to gunge with him. "You've got to face your fear Pete," Zach told him, "face it head-on." So it was Zach's idea that Pete become a contestant on Treasure Chest, a weekly game show where contestants had to go through slapstick, gungey physical challenges. If Pete could endure getting a pie in his face in public, he'd be able to deal with his fetish much better. Treasure Chest was a pretty silly show--after going through each physical challenge, the contestant got to pick one out of 50 fake pirate treasure chests, winning what was inside. The chests could contain something expensive, like a vacation trip, a car, or cash, but they could also contain stupid prizes like a dozen lint brushes or an old VCR machine. Plus, some of the chests contained--PIES!!--big juicy, gooey pies that the contestant had to take out on the spot and smoosh into his own face, in front of a live audience and several million viewers.

After a flurry of filling out forms on line and pictures submitted and a phone interview with one of the show's producers, Pete was emailed a green room pass good for the next six shows. He'd join other potential contestants in a green room where they'd all be given numbers, and if your number was called, you got on. Pete had watched the show every week, and recently he had been very turned on by the show's new stooge, a red-headed, red-bearded, potbellied guy who took his pies like a man, named Angus McNitt. The McNitt guy had the same kind of body type which Pete loved, just like Zach--"full-figured" was the kindest term, a mature, well-bellied guy with a beard and a jovial, affectionate temper. The first week Pete didn't get on, but he got to watch McNitt in a police skit with a mild-mannered man named Higganbotham. He went back each week after that, never getting his number called, plus he was disappointed to find out that Mr. McNitt only appeared once a month.

But the fifth time Pete went his luck changed. They called his number, AND McNitt was on that night. Maybe he'd get to do a pie-in-the-face skit with him! He was given a costume to get into, just a short-sleeved shirt, shorts, fake glasses, and a pocket protector, and told that he was dressed up as a nerd.

On with the show! Jerry Mason introduced him rather oddly: "Our next contestant is a construction worker, and his name is Pete!" Then, an aside: "Frankly folks, I can't pronounce his last name, but he's a local guy from LA here." Pete walked out on stage, nervous as hell. All that he could think of was that he was glad he'd remembered to wear the cup on his genitals from his football-playing days, to guard against any erections or emissions. After being barely able to pronounce his name properly, Jerry took him by the hand as the curtain behind them opened, to reveal a display of five weird-looking machines in a display on the right side. But on the other side--there he was, this gorgeous hot bear man, arms folded over the top of his magnificent belly, also dressed as a nerd, standing in one of two circles, a few feet apart. AND there was a cart full of custard pies. As he took his place standing on the other circle, Pete could feel his penis straining against the cup--was this really happening? The machines turned out to be drones, and they were all full of chocolate syrup, except for one, which contained strawberry syrup and whipped cream. Pete barely understood what Jerry Mason was saying--something about one drone, the one with the strawberry syrup, had been programmed to fall on him.

So Pete chose drone number 3 first, and it seemed to take forever as the drone slowly flew up above the stage, lazily flying around and almost stopping above one of the two men's heads, the audience going "ooh" and "ahh" in anticipation, until finally it stopped over Mr. McNitt's head--and let loose a slow-moving stream of thick dark chocolate syrup that fell onto his head and down onto his belly and chest. The audience was shrieking with laughter, but Pete was trying not to move, afraid the slightest twitch would betray his erection. Then Jerry Mason was shaking his shoulder saying, "Let him have it with one of those pies! Go ahead, get one of those lovely creamy ones over there and LET HIM HAVE IT!" Pete didn't want to hurt McNitt, so he very gingerly pushed the pie in his face, obscuring his red beard and smiling face. "Aw c'mon" said Jerry Mason, offering him another pie and playfully slapping Angus McNitt's ample belly, "you can see what a big burly guy our stooge is here. Stand back and smack it in his puss!" So this time Pete backed up a few feet and hurled the pie across the stage at Angus so that it made a huge SPLAT! against his head. McNitt, ever the stooge, grabbed the pie plate before it fell off his face and gave it a big twist, grinding the whipped cream and custard into his face, as the audience howled with delight.

After a commercial, Pete was back on stage with Jerry Mason, choosing a treasure chest. He chose his lucky number, 9, and was given a large skeleton key to unlock it. As he opened it, he could feel his dick about to pop out of the cup, but there was no way he could fix it, not in front of a live studio audience and several million people. Would it be a car? A Caribbean cruise? A lint brush? Oh my God--it was a PIE, a big juicy creamy pie as gooey as the ones he'd thrown at Angus McNitt. "Just pretend you're at home doing this, with no one else around," said Jerry Mason--good advice, because that was exactly what Pete had done many times before. He took a deep breath, lifted the pie, and slowly shoved it into his face, feeling the whipped cream first, light and milky-smelling, quickly followed by the thick gooey custard engulfing his eyes, mouth, and nose, twisting the pie down to the crust, feeling it dropping down onto his shirt all the way to the floor, as the audience went wild. Handing him a towel, Jerry Mason said, "Well, you ready for another round?"

This time Pete chose drone number 2, and again the rumbling, whirring machine took its sweet time circling above their heads, until finally pausing above McNitt's head again and releasing a torrent of Hersheys chocolate syrup on his head. Pete was supposed to hit him with a pie next, but as he approached McNitt with the pie, a big banana cream number, Pete slipped on a puddle of Hersheys, landing the pie right in Angus's face pretty forcefully. McNitt stood there for a while, wiped a big handful of custard off his face and hurled it right at Pete's, where it landed right between his eyes. Then, as if in a dream, McNitt came over, laughing and smiling, and hugged Pete, who was laughing just as hard, but the feeling of McNitt's fine manly belly up against his rock-hard abs left him breathless. Fortunately, the cup was holding his penis in, because he never wanted to stroke his dick more in his life.

And so it went--after picking treasure chest number 18, Pete had to pie himself again, then McNitt got another droneful of chocolate syrup and a coconut cream pie. Then Pete chose treasure chest number 25, which was Zach's lucky number. Lucky indeed--he won a state-of-the-art Dyson vacuum cleaner, exactly what Zach had said he wanted for his birthday. But then Pete chose the drone fated for him--the audience went nuts as he stood there and felt the thick sticky strawberry syrup drop onto his head, slowly rolling down onto his shirt, as McNitt came over and rubbed it all over his belly with one of his big beefy hands. With his other hand, McNitt hit him with a pie, giving as good as he had gotten--he stepped back, just as Pete had done to him, and hurled the pie at Pete, who caught the pie in his face and gave it a big twist, just like Angus had before. Jerry Mason then tormented Angus some more by taking two pies and demonstrating a pie sandwich on him, encouraging Pete to follow suit, which he did. And then, a surprise--McNitt, custard and cream and crust falling off him, took the last two pies and gave Pete a pie sandwich all his own. Under his costume, Pete's penis finally leaped out of the cup, but luckily McNitt was right there, giving him a hug, so his erection wasn't visible to viewers. But McNitt must have felt it, because he stood back from Pete with a very surprised look on his face, then immediately hugged him even more closely. Pete, accustomed to grabbing one of Zach's butt cheeks when they were hugging, automatically grabbed one of McNit's butt cheeks, (off-camera fortunately). McNitt countered with a kiss on Pete's cheek, until Jerry Mason hurled a big bucket of water at both of them for the last shot of the show. Afterwards, as he and McNitt wiped their faces with towels, they exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. Pete didn't think anything would ever come of their meeting, but he went home really happy, with a Dyson for Zach and a furious desire to masturbate, which he did immediately upon arriving, to a huge orgasm.


PART 2--The Session

But something DID come of it. Eleven days later the two met again in Angus's hotel suite, with some 3-millimeter plastic sheeting, three industrial-size boxes of cake mix, and a can of Reddi-Whip supplied by Pete, and 20 lovely top-of-the-line Fleer's custard pies, corralled by Angus from the company's delivery trucks. No TV cameras, no treasure chests, no Jerry Mason, just two horny guys who couldn't wait to get their hands on each other: Angus, resplendent in his new policeman's uniform, and Pete in gym shorts and a muscle T-shirt. Pete was quite nervous, as he had never had a session with anyone before, but Angus put him at ease immediately, putting an arm around him and, smiling as soon as the door closed behind them, "I'd like to get something out of the way right now lad--let's have a hug and a kiss." Wow thought Pete, throwing his arms around the big man, reveling in his beautiful manly belly up against his, while Angus was equally aroused by Pete's muscular frame. Pete had always preferred close-mouth kissing, and fortunately, so did Angus. A good start.

Once the sheeting was down and the pies spread out all over the floor, Angus was using his hands to mix up the dry cake batter in a bucket with warm water, while Pete was marveling at the sheer quantity of gooey pies all around. "How are we supposed to start?" Pete asked, and Angus answered, still mixing the batter to break up any lumps, "Simple--first you take a pie in your hands, like this," handing Pete a pie," and then we--SHIT! " Angus was pissed about something--"There are those damn flies again--I told the chambermaid to spray for those flies--wait lad, hold still, there's one right on your nose there--" and SPLAT! Angus got him with a large handful of thick yellow cake batter, and before Pete had time to react, Angus pushed the pie in Pete's hands up into his face, giving it a big twist that practically broke his nose. Pete was laughing as the cream and custard slowly dripped down onto his chest--he knew he'd been had, so that made it all the more pleasant for him to take his time picking out a retaliatory pie, weighing a pie in each hand, holding one under Angus's nose and asking him if it smelled all right, dipping a finger into the pie and running the whipped cream around Angus's face and chin, until Angus calmly reached over and grabbed Pete's genitals, catching him off guard long enough to shove the new pie right into Pete's face. So the score was Big Guy 2, Muscle Guy 0, but Pete got revenge simply by embracing Angus with a big hug and a kiss, moving his pie-splattered face all over Angus's. Pete put his own hand on Angus's package, feeling the stiff member and the egg-like balls. Angus had gotten another pie in his hand, but this time he was contrite--"Go ahead, it's your turn lad--I deserve it good!" So Pete pushed the pie in his pal's face, gently at first, like on the TV show, pressing and twisting harder and harder until the cream came out of the side of Angus's ears. Pete put both his hands on Angus's face and playfully slapped him back and forth, then slathered the goop onto Angus's belly, which clearly produced a reaction in the Scotsman. "Yeah, massage me stomach lad, I really like that." "OK," said Pete, immediately reaching for the bowl of raw cake batter, taking out a double handful and outlining Angus's belly under the police shirt with the slimy stuff. Now it was Angus's turn to lean in for a hug and kiss, his beard tickling Pete's smooth shaven face with yellow slop.

Pete had an idea. He stood behind Angus and put his arms through Angus's armpits, continually stroking and massaging his belly, which clearly contented him. With his right hand, Pete reached over for another handful of cake batter, and with his left hand he pulled Angus's shirt out of his pants, rolling the shirt up so that his belly was exposed, bathing it in cake batter. Angus was moaning, "Ah, ah...keep doing it , yeah, yeah., I like it when you play with my belly....yeah..Do my right nipple....the right nipple....please, the right nipple." Pete brushed the nipple, Angus moaning plaintively, then Pete pinched it, and Angus moaned louder. Then Pete stopped abruptly and said, "OK buddy, I'll stroke that nipple, right after you take a pie in your face!" "Whoa!!" said Angus. Pete got a big one, I mean a big gooey, dripping-with-goosh pie and, still standing behind Angus with his arms through Angus's armpits, taunted him, all the while massaging his capacious belly with his other hand: "You want this pie in your face don't you? You like to have your nipple pinched, don't you?" (here, Pete really did give it a pinch--Angus flinched, going "Whoaa.") Pete kept one hand constantly moving around and around Angus's belly, pausing in his massaging to slap it, pinch it, caress it, while Angus grew increasingly impatient: "C'mon, give me the pie! Or do my nipple, c'mon lad!" "No," said Pete, "I'm just taking my time. Is the anticipation of getting this huge...thick... sticky cream pie mooshed into your face making your dick hard?" Pete goaded him, answering the question by reaching over to feel the goods himself. It was hard all right, and Angus himself grabbed at his pants and ripped them off, revealing six inches of thick, rock-hard penis. "Yes! Yes!" said Angus, becoming breathless, "I'm hard--now do my nipple goddamnit!" Pete replied: "My, such strong language! You've got to learn to--" "Shut up!" Angus interrupted, shouting "For Christs sake hit me in the face with that fuckin' pi----" The last syllable was obscured by Pete suddenly pulling the pie right into Angus's face from behind, then encircling the pie tin around his head, finishing by pulling it over the top of his head. As the messy custard and cream slowly fell onto Angus's chest, Pete further massaged his big buddy's big belly, the buttons of his shirt popping off. From inside his shorts, Pete's own penis had been working up against Angus's butt crack, engorging and enlarging, until he quickly tore them off to reveal his own seven inches or so of manly dick. Working his engorged member up against Angus's butt crack made him moan with pleasure as loudly as Angus. (But he stopped short of any anal penetration, reserving that only for his partner Zach.)

Pete now came around in front of Angus, sank to his knees, and began to suck his penis, taking the head in his mouth and then tickling it with his tongue, while fingering McNitt's right nipple. Angus, between moans of pleasure, was able to get out the words: "Aye lad, now you see why....I didn't want you....bringing any shave cream." Pete just nodded yes as he kept going to work on the big man's member. All of a sudden Pete felt a plop! of something gooey on top of his head, and that's when he realized that Angus had pied himself, letting the custard fall down onto Pete's head. Then he felt Angus pulling away briefly, and--SPLAT!--Angus smashed a pie in Pete's face, which made Pete stand up and hug and kiss this sweet burly guy. "That's it," said Angus, "kiss the pie off me face lad!"

They were both stark naked now. As they stood there, belly to belly, Pete had another idea. "Would you do one of my fantasies for me?" he asked Angus, who smiled and nodded yes. So Pete sat on an inverted 5-gallon Home Depot bucket and took up the can of Reddi-Whip he'd brought. "OK big guy, I want you to get two pies, one in each hand, and stand in front of me here, like you're about to give me a pie sandwich." Angus complied, sticking his belly just a few inches from Pete's face, while Pete shook the can of Reddi-Whip. "Now just stand there a while," and Pete squirted the cream all over Angus's belly, first marking out a great circle, then gradually filling it in. For Pete, you see, was a connoisseur of men's bellies--he liked them prominent but not obese, not flabby and soft but hardened a little by regular exercise. Zach's was perfect that way, and at the present moment, Angus's was pretty close. When he'd covered Angus's belly with the whipped cream, he put the can down and instructed Angus: "OK, now I want you to push that creamy hot belly of yours into my face--rotate it around and round, get me really good, and THEN give me the pie sandwich. Got it?" "So you want me creamy tum in your face, is that it?" asked Angus, for this was an entirely new, but exciting, way to get messy to him. "Yeah," said Pete, "GO FOR IT!" Angus charged into Pete's face and chest, rolling his fine manly belly all around Pete, who embraced it with both arms and pulled it into his head. When Pete had held his breath so long that he thought his lungs would burst, he cried out, "OK, let me have it with those pies!!" And Angus let loose with the pie sandwich, Pete stroking his penis furiously. Pete next took Angus's penis in his mouth again and massaged his belly while savoring the pie slop slowly migrating down his body onto the floor.

"Aye lad," said Angus, "turnabout is fair play--let me suck you for a bit." So they changed places, Angus sitting on the inverted bucket and taking Pete's seven-inch dick in his mouth carefully. Angus, like many big guys, was really good at oral sex--Pete moaned his satisfaction, eventually reaching for the bowl of cake batter and pouring a lot of it onto Angus's head, slathering it all around as he drove his penis harder into Angus's throat. Too deep for Angus, who gagged and had to withdraw his mouth--immediately, Pete got a hold of a pie and smacked it into his face. But Angus was a real trooper--the pie and cake batter falling off his face didn't even faze him as he went right back to sucking Pete's dick. Pete found Angus's electrifying right nipple again, alternating with belly rubs, and the pie-covered pair moaned their pleasure into the large hotel suite.

By this time a lot of pie and cake batter detritus had fallen to the floor, so much that now Angus had an idea. "You know," he said, "I've got a fantasy too--I've always wanted to imitate Curley of the Three Stooges. I don't do him very well, but it's a routine I've always wanted to do. It's from, I think it's called The Sweet Pie and Pie?" "Yeah," Pete replied, I know that. Do you want me to be Moe?" "No lad, I just want you to throw the pies at me." "Well of course I'm gonna throw pies at you Big Guy--what do you want me to do?" Angus told him, and together they recycled 4 pies out of the pie tins and slop on the floor for Pete to hurl at him. Then Angus chose a fresh pie from the inventory, a lovely coconut cream number, and said to Pete, "now remember, the fourth time, wait for me to stick my tongue out at you." Pete nodded and they were off: Angus took his fresh coconut pie in his right hand, went "Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk," and cocked his arm as if he was about to throw the pie, which was Pete's cue to take the first recycled pie and hurl it in his face. The pie splattered Angus dead on, and he wiped his face with his left hand, giving out some Curley-type noise (his imitation of Curley really wasn't very good), and then he wound up a second time to throw his pie--but Pete threw the next recycled pie at him. "Hmmm!" Angus fumed, wiping his face and winding up a third time with his coconut cream pie, and getting a third pie smashed in his face by Pete. Then, the fourth time, Angus cocked his arm with his pie---but this time nothing happened. He stood there for a few seconds and then went, "Ah-ah-ah," and shoved that big gooey coconut cream pie right into his own face! Then he stuck his tongue out, going "Nyahh," and that was Pete's cue to unload the last recycled pie at the gunged Scotsman. Pete was laughing so hard that he didn't have time to react when Angus came over to him, grabbed both sides of Pete's head with his hands, and wiped Pete's face on his capacious, creamy belly. "This is what you said you liked lad--how do you like it now?" asked Angus, as Pete hugged his belly hard, finding the right nipple and sucking on it, hard. As soon as they broke their hold, Pete said, "I remember something else from that Three Stooges short--isn't that the one where Moe is in the middle of a lot of people, they're all holding pies, and he suddenly says, real sanctimonious, 'Wait a minute everyone, wait, what are we doing? Why can't we all get along with our fellow man--let us LOVE one another!'" Angus replied as the people in the movie did--he slammed a fresh pie in Pete's face, then rubbed cake batter all over his hard belly and ended with a pie sandwich made from all the goop on the floor.

Pete now called Time Out, like at a football game and went for a serious hug from his pie pal. They kissed passionately, caressing each other's genitalia, running their hands all over each others' totally-creamed bodies. "Hey Angus," said Pete, "have you ever done this?" He took a pie and placed it just under Angus's pendulous balls and penis, then pushed the pie up into them. "Oh yeah man," cried Angus, grabbing another pie and doing the same to Pete's low-hanging fruit. After pleasurably manipulating each others' packages for a while, Angus lifted up his pie, signalling for Pete to do the same, and then said, "OK, on the count of three--one" (Angus cocked his arm again with his pie), "two--THREE!" and each smeared the face of the other guy with their pies, pushing, rotating, clobbering each other with their genitalia-infused pies.

"Do me again from behind, will you lad?" asked Angus, and Pete was happy to oblige, taking a lemon meringue pie, putting his arms through Angus's armpits and holding the pie in one hand right below his face, while fingering his belly and right nipple with the other, Angus masturbating lustily. Pete said, "Hey man, my throwing arm is getting tired. How about you pie yourself while I stroke you?" Fine by Angus, who slowly pushed the pie into his own face, grabbing the tin by the edges and twirling it round and round. As the soft meringue and the creamy lemon curd fell onto Angus's chest, Pete swirled his left hand over his belly, reaching down to the bottom-most roll of fat just below his navel, while pinching Angus's right nipple with his right hand. The Scotsman breathed out his satisfaction, pumping his member harder, while Pete, working from behind, was getting very turned-on himself with the underside of his erect penis in the vertical position rubbing up and down on Angus's butt crack. It felt so good that Pete handed Angus another pie. Without a word, Angus obliged with a more violent self-pieing, half the custard and cream splattering Pete's face behind him. Pete was now feeling so close to orgasm that he had to step back to catch his breath--he didn't want this to end! Ever!! "Wait a second lad," said Angus, "one more pie please, but move in closer, put your chin on me shoulder here." Pete took a deep breath first, to allow his tumescence to subside a little, then placed his chin on Angus's right shoulder. Angus was lifting the pie up to his face, but at the last moment he took a detour and--SPLAT!--smacked it into Pete's. This time Pete, who wasn't terribly surprised by Angus's trick, wiped the lemon curd off his face and massaged it directly onto the big man's penis, resuming his own pleasurable penile activity on Angus's butt crack.

By now the gunge on the floor was ankle-deep. Angus, clearly tiring from standing for so long, broke their hold, turned around and said, "OK lad, I gotta sit down for a while." Angus unwittingly set his big ass PLOP! into a pile of cream and custard. Pete followed him down, smiling broadly as his genitals hit the goop. The two men stretched their naked bodies out on the gooey plastic sheeting side by side and began to kiss and hug and cuddle, reveling in the messy male camaraderie of gunge love. Angus lay on his back while Pete filled up an empty pie tin with goop from the floor, rolled over on top of the big guy and pushed it in his face. The sensation of Angus's beautiful, creamy belly up against his own refreshed Pete's boner thoroughly, and his passionate kiss left Angus close to cumming too. But it was Angus who wanted to do the cumming his way. "Aye lad, will you let me cum while you just keep smooshing the gunge in me face? Then I'll do the same to you--that way it's totally safe sex!" Logical, thought Pete, who nodded in agreement and began a barrage on his big-bellied buddy: handfuls of gunge off the floor plastered into Angus's face and smeared on his abdomen, with some of it hastily scooped into pie tins and smashed in his face. A sloppy kiss and a right-nipple check. Another double-handful of cake batter slathered onto the belly, Pete avidly licking the belly and finding the navel and the erect right nipple with his lips. Another passionate kiss and hug, Angus all the while manipulating his penis energetically. The second-to-last remaining pie shoved and creamed into his bearded face, Pete's hands all over him, as Angus's breathing became progressively harder and shorter until--!!! That did it for Pete too--as soon as the big guy came, Pete could feel his own semen starting to erupt, which issued forth like lava from a volcano a few moments later when Angus pushed the last of the pies into his face, twisting, screwing, and slathering the banana cream around his head while Pete's own super-charged male cream squirted out, merging with the cream already on the floor.

It had been a perfect session for both--two gunge buddies indulging in the manly camaraderie of alternately pieing and cuddling one another while jacking off. It was a session neither of them ever forgot for the rest of their lives.
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